The Persistence of Memory
by StarStruckLoser
Summary: Harry goes missing after an encounter with Voldemort and the wizarding world gives up searching for him, presuming him dead. They should have given him more credit...
1. Chapter 1

Ok hello everyone. Well…I can't honestly tell you I have any idea where this story is going.  
In fact it didn't even start out as a Harry Potter story but I kinda later converted it into one  
and it fit. And I like it. Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter; if I did I sure as hell wouldn't  
be broke.

The Persistence of Memory  
StarStruckLoser

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I live in the slum of London, undoubtedly the most dangerous and filthy part of town.  
The part of town where the police fear to go after sunset and where classy people don't  
even stray during the day lest they want to come out missing their wallets or not come  
out at all.

My father died of drug overdose, heroine I think…hardly uncommon around here.

And my mother, well…I don't know what happened to her.

I can't even remember their faces or their names. I'm not even sure that they existed.  
Maybe I imagined them in my desperate struggle to feel loved and wanted, a stage  
everyone gives up after reality hits them.  
I, like many, have long surpassed such hopes for love or compassion.

In this part of town you always watch your back. Always.

And you never make new friends unless you know where your allegiance lies.  
It's a pity but I've stuck to this code and it's kept me alive. I can't say the same for  
the foolish ones. But now they've disappeared, for good I imagine.

The city is split up into four territories ruled over by two dominating gangs:  
The Serpents and The Lions.

Naturally, living in this part of the city and fending for myself, I was recruited  
by a gang. I owe my allegiance to the Lions. Proudly or not, it doesn't matter.  
Here it's all about survival.

I've been in the gang shortly over a year; I joined when I was fourteen.  
I've learned hand to hand combat, knavery, and how to aim and shoot a  
gun. It's an edgy life, always wondering if the person you pass by on the  
sidewalk will be the next predator seeking out your pathetic excuse for a life,  
waiting to take it from you in a moment's notice with the simple pull of a  
trigger.

One dreams, more often that not, of a normal life.

One where you can walk free in the streets, one where laughter is not  
stolen or forced, a life where you can walk through a park without getting shot at.

But there is only one way to escape this wretched life, as I have come to realize.

A body bag.

My sole possessions consist of one pair of tennis shoes (old converses I pulled from a trash bin),  
one pair of raggedy blue jeans, and two shirts, both of which a fellow gang member  
lifted from a store. I carry a small handgun in my waistband, but I've never used it and I hope  
I never have to. I carry it so I can look tough, getting mugged by your own gang is hardly  
uncommon.

My name is Harry Potter and the only reason I know that is because it said so on a crumpled  
piece of paper the doctors found in the pocket of my coat. I had a weird scar of my forehead,  
shaped like a bolt of lightning which occasionally twinges painfully if I try to think to hard about  
my past.

Oh yea, and to top it all off I can't remember the first fourteen years of my life.

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Harry stared glumly at the worn and watermarked piece of paper that lay on the small  
table before his eyes. Sighing in frustration, he rubbed his eyes tiredly and out of habit,  
tried to smooth down his amazingly untidy black hair. The bartender clunked a frosty  
tankard of beer in front of him and gave him a toothy grin.

"Still at that Harry?"

Harry grimaced and nodded. He took a long sip of the drink before replying,  
"Yea. How long's it been anyways?"  
"About three or four hours," the bartender replied.

Harry was a usual here at the broken down old pub on the outskirts of London and  
he knew the old bartender fairly well. "How are the kids," Harry asked politely.  
"Eh…not bad. Young Geoffrey's got the flu, bless the poor lad. But Henrietta's just  
fine. I think she's got a secret boyfriend and she's sneaking behind my back.  
When I find out who he is, well I'll--"

"Beat him black and blue." Harry finished for him. He knew old Solomon's  
speeches well. "What happened to the last one?" Harry inquired to Solomon's  
chuckle. The daily comings and goings of this bartender piqued his interest. Harry  
presumed it was because of the love the old bartender had for his family and his  
own subconscious craving to feel the same love in return.

Harry shook his head. Amy was right, he was thinking way too much.  
"Aww, the last one was bloody fast. Couldn't get out of my chair quick enough  
to whip his scrawny hide." Harry laughed till he had tears in his eyes before wishing  
Solomon his family the best and bidding him goodbye as she exited the pub and  
stepped out into the sultry night air.

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Yawning Harry strolled down the street. To any other normal human being strolling  
through the streets, Harry appeared to be a young man, enjoying the quietness of the  
night. But underneath the mask was a boy, tense and cautious, warily walking the  
streets of enemy territory. He appeared unarmed and vulnerable but the trained eye  
could see that occasionally his dagger sheaths would be visible under his shirt sleeves  
when he shifted his body a certain way or the outline of his gun would show if he  
took extra large steps.

Every week as he walked back from Solomon's old pub, Harry questioned himself  
about why he risked the cross into enemy territory just to spend an afternoon in one pub  
when there were far more sanitary and respectable pubs in his territory of town.  
And every week he would get the same answer.

_It's because a part of Solomon reminds you of someone_ said a tiny voice inside  
his head snidely. _Someone you can't remember._

Harry tried to shrug this off but he knew it was true. Something about Solomon  
stirred a feeling of deep friendship and companionship deep inside him. Harry simply  
couldn't figure it out. Solomon looked anything but friendly because of his beastly  
appearance though deep down he was as gentle as a lamb. He was one of the tallest  
men Harry had ever seen (though he had a nagging feeling in his mind that he had  
seen much taller), towering a whopping seven foot one inch. His face was always  
hidden beneath a large prickly black beard. He kept his black hair short though and  
it didn't seem to suit him. It seemed to Harry that he should have a thick mane of black  
hair, just like his beard. And for the oddest reason, Harry found himself wondering why  
he didn't see Solomon in the company of some enormous yet friendly slobbering dog.

Harry recalled asking Solomon once if he owned a dog. But it turned out Solomon  
was allergic to them, an answer that left Harry feeling more confused than before  
he'd asked the question.

_Just another thing that makes me even weirder than I already am_ Harry thought  
darkly to himself.

And for the millionth time in the last year, Harry Potter felt as if he were a jigsaw puzzle  
short more than a few pieces.

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An hour or so later Harry slipped down a dark alley which dead-ended in a rotting  
wooden fence laced with barbed wire. Harry approached the fence and knocked  
twice. From behind the fence Harry heard the scrape of a trashcan and a clicking noise  
Harry knew to be the loading of guns. "Password," mumbled a harsh voice.

"Caput Draconis," he responded without much thought. Harry frowned as what  
he had just said dawned on him. _Where the hell did that come from?  
Caput Draconis…_

"Stop screwing around Potter and give me the god damn password."  
"If you know it's me then why the hell do you need the password?" Harry replied  
impatiently. He needed to get to his room and write this down.  
_Caput Draconis…Caput Draconis…Caput Draconis…_

"Oh fuck it all, get in here. This password stuff is bullshit anyways. But don't tell  
anyone or my ass is gonna get fried." The guard slid aside two of the wooden boards  
of the fence revealing a gap just large enough for Harry to get through.  
Mumbling his thanks Harry took off at a sprint towards his current residence: the  
abandoned opera house. The opera house was empty as he sprinted through and  
Harry belatedly wondered where everyone was. Shrugging off the thought, Harry leapt  
up onto the main stage and descended down through the trap door to the basement  
below. He hopped the steps three at a time, skipping the middle step out of an  
unexplained habit, and landed with a thud.

A few large strides brought him to his bed. Reaching under the mattress, he  
pulled out a worn spiral notebook and fountain pen. Flipping open to the most  
recent page he scribbled Caput Draconis in capital letters.He smiled widely and  
clutched the book to his chest.

"Caput Draconis…" he mumbled to himself, his mind already getting to work  
on what it could possibly mean.

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Well that's it for chapter one. Hopefully I can get chapter two up to you soon.  
Enjoy. REVIEW PLEASE!

-StarStruckLoser


	2. Chapter 2

Sorry Chapter 2 took so long. I blame it on my teachers. They've  
been piling us with homework, especially since AP test are coming  
up. And basketball is a big part of my life too. Sorry all. But nevertheless,  
here is the next chapter. Hope you like it. Please review! I love to hear  
your wonderful comments!

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter; if I did I sure as hell wouldn't  
be broke.

The Persistence of Memory  
StarStruckLoser

Chapter 2  
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The weather was cold and stormy. Outside, lightning forked through the  
sky and thunder rumbled through the air. It was late at night and few were  
awake to witness Mother Nature's belligerent temperament. But there  
were two who watched on…

Hermione shivered as another bolt of electricity crackled through the air. The  
trees of the forbidden forest thrashed in the wind giving the forest the  
appearance of a turbulent ocean. Next to her, she could hear the silent rasping  
of Ron's breathing. She glanced at him, and opened her mouth to speak.  
But he was too far lost in his thoughts for conversation. Lost in memories, memories  
of a time when two was three and dark times were merely a whisper…

_I have found what I am looking for.  
I know what I must do.  
Where I go, you cannot follow.  
Do not miss me, for I will have no memory of you._

Those were the last words Harry had said to her. The memory brought on a  
fresh onslaught of tears and confusion. No matter how hard she tried, she could  
not fulfill his request. She would miss him and mourn him all of her life. Harry Potter,  
her hero and her best friend. Next to her, Ron stiffened at the sound of her sniffles.  
With a depressed sigh, he pulled her close to him in a comforting embrace.

For only in each other's arms did these two find solace from the pain and  
the everlasting legacy Harry had left behind. The legacy that taunted them  
every day.

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Harry sighed wearily and rubbed his eyes. He'd been staring at the piece of  
paper before his for nearly two hours but all that what written on it was as much  
gibberish to him now as it had been when he started. He ran a finger of the  
paper gently. This piece of paper was the key to his mysterious past.

It had been what identified him a year ago as he had lain unconscious in  
critical condition in a London hospital. But other than that one vital clue, the  
paper had yet to reveal any more of its unknown origins or any more  
information Harry could decipher.

The paper was watermarked and worn, as if it had been through a washing  
machine several times. Some of the inked words had run together and were  
completely illegible but many for the most part were naught but faded. In the  
top left corner was a name that he had assumed and adopted as his.

**_Harry Potter  
5, November_**

**_The combination of Wormwood and Asphodel along with Sopophorus  
Bean and Valerian Roots creates an extremely strong commonly  
called the draught of living death. This concoction is extremely  
powerful and is monitored by the ministry of M. Also on the  
list of monitored potions is the expensive and difficult to brew Felix Felicis.  
Commonly called "The Liquid Lady Luck", it can cause dangerous  
overconfidence if used in excess. It's highly toxic if consumed in large  
quantities and is banned from organized competitions._**

A tap on his shoulder made Harry jump and knock over his chair, he hitting  
the floor with it. From the floor Harry opened his eyes and found himself  
looking into the bright green eyes of Melina. Melina was Harry's best  
friend. She towered over him five foot eleven inches with long chocolate  
brown hair that she liked to wear loose. Laughing so hard, her eyes  
began to water Melina helped him up and placed his chair upright.

With a humorous sigh, she wiped her eyes and picked up the piece of paper Harry  
had been reading. Harry grinned at her. Melina was one of the few people he  
confided in about anything and the only person aside from the doctors at the hospital  
that knew of his amnesia. He had a feeling Melina liked him as more than friend  
and Harry wasn't sure whether or not he felt the same. Their relationship was a complicated  
but true one.

"At this same paper again?" she asked him nonchalantly as she set the  
paper back down on the desk.  
"Yea," said Harry with a sigh. "And making no progress."

"You know. I bet you were something stupid like a bartender or something.  
Maybe a smuggler. I mean come on. _Concoction? Monitored by the ministry?  
Highly toxic if consumed in large quantities?_ Tell me that doesn't sound  
like a bartender to you?" Harry tried to look offended but couldn't hold  
the face and laughed. "Yea I guess it does. That'd be a handy trade no?  
I could whip you up a Margarita every now and then?"

Melina smiled. "You know what I think?"

"What?"

"You've been working too hard on this stuff. I think you need a break!"

"A break?"

"Yup!" She stood up and walked over to the old opera house costume  
bureau that served as his closet. "You're coming to the club with me tonight," she  
said, her voice muffled as she rummaged through his clothes. She emerged  
a few seconds later with a powder blue long sleeved collared shirt and a  
pair of blue jeans, smiling. "So put on something nice will you?"

She threw the clothes at him and marched up the stairs. "You have ten minutes!  
And do something with that hair!" Harry rolled his eyes knowing very well  
that she knew very well that there was nothing to be done about his hair.  
It resisted every type of gel and every trick in the book. Shrugging, he  
changed and threw on some tennis shoes.

Less than five minutes later, he was climbing the stairs. As he emerged he  
saw Melina was waiting for him on one of the theater seats looking beautiful  
in a pair of jeans and a black halter top. Closing the trap door to his room  
Harry hopped off the stage and he and Melina left together for a night on the town.

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Well that's it. Hopefully I can get the next chapter up to you soon! 

**REVIEW!**


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